Behind Closed Doors
by onlyonceinforever
Summary: Draco becomes a Death Eater, but someone isn't too happy with his decision. How will it affect their relationship? Co-written with Snape's Gurl. Please R&R!
1. The Initiation

**Disclaimer: Owning nothing here.**

**Behind Closed Doors**

**Chapter 1: The Initiation**

Draco Malfoy sat in a chair located in the Malfoy Manor, deep in thought. Today would be the day when he was initiated as a Death Eater. He had been waiting for this day all his life, but now something was holding him back, and he needed to find out what.

It wasn't his father, as Lucius had been impressing the importance and significance of the event upon Draco since Day 1. It wasn't his mother, who encouraged him just as much as his father. It wasn't anything of his own conscious being. So what was it?

As Draco sat, Draco thought. He wondered why he could possibly be having doubts now, of all times. This was definitely not a good thing. The Dark Lord would be able to sense his weakness, and would kill him for it. No, this was not good at all.

He wheeled through a mental list of the people he knew that might have expressed doubts to Draco's decision. One name popped up in particular, and Draco knew that was the problem. Snape. He had never said anything to Draco directly, but subtly hinted that he was repeating the same mistake his father did whenever they came in contact. And if there was one person in the whole world that Draco did not want lacking support from, it was Snape.

A knock on the wooden door to the room in which Draco was pondering shook him out of his mental reverie. It was time to go, as his father so kindly pointed out, looking rather beside himself with pride. Draco nodded and rose, pushing the thoughts to the back of his head. If Snape couldn't understand why he had to do this now, he never would. And that was fine with Draco.

A circle of black hooded figures surrounded Draco, who was on his knees. The mist of the graveyard made him choke on his own breath, but he refused to show weakness. Such things were not done in the presence of the Dark Lord. He did not accept flaws in his followers, and Draco was determined to convince Him that he was flawless.

The circle parted, and a lone figure stepped forward. Draco looked up, but remained where he was. This was the final test that he had been destined for, ever since the day he was born. Voldemort stepped forward, moving closer to the young Malfoy one step at a time. Draco suppressed a shudder. He had never been this close before, and the aura surrounding his presence was almost overwhelming. Almost, but not quite. The Dark Lord spoke.

"Do you believe that you are worthy of being one of my loyal followers?" The words were spoken in a soft hiss, but Draco heard every one of them with remarkable clarity. He averted his gaze back to the ground, as was proper when addressing someone of such stature.

"Yes, My Lord." His voice was strong, but Draco still had to work to keep a slight tremble from ruining his chances.

"What is your name?"

"Draco Malfoy, My Lord."

"Malfoy, eh? Your father has proved to be one of my most loyal followers since the day he joined me. Is the same to be said of you?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Is there one among the others who will vouch for you?" Lucius stepped out from among the throng of hooded followers.

"I do, My Lord."

"And you believe your son has the commitment and guile to be one of my followers?"

"I do, My Lord. Draco will prove to be one of if not the most loyal servant under your command." Lucius stepped back into the circle as Voldemort turned back to Draco.

"Are you willing to prove your loyalty?"

"Yes, My Lord." Voldemort gave him the slightest of nods and raised his wand. "CRUCIO!"

A jet of red light shot from the tip of the wand and hit Draco squarely in the chest. Draco screamed. A burning sensation spread from the point of impact through all his body, and he had the feeling that every fiber of his being was being torn apart millimeter by millimeter.

Eventually the pain subsided, and Draco found himself face down on the ground, inhaling mist as if it was real air. Then, it came back again. And again, and again, and again.

Then it finally stopped.

Voldemort remained standing where he had been, a look of pleasure scrawled on his features. He commanded Draco to rise, and he did so, ignoring everything that was telling him to stay down.

Voldemort chuckled evilly.

"You have proven yourself worthy to follow me." Voldemort stepped forwards, and took Draco's left arm. With one spindly finger, he pressed on the exposed skin of the forearm. The smell of burning flesh permeated the surroundings as the skin grew dark. When Draco looked down, he saw a symbol of a skull and snake tattooed there. He bowed and kissed the hem of Voldemort's black robes.

With that, the Dark Lord, and Draco's new master, turned his back to the boy and Disapperated.

The other Death Eaters followed suit, until only Draco and Lucius were left in the graveyard. Draco collapsed the moment they was gone, unable to hold his body up for any longer. Lucius scooped his son up into his arms, impressed that he had been able to hold out for so long. The Dark Lord's earlier words echoed in his mind as he Transmuted a rock into a Portkey.

_He might prove to be one to watch out for after all._


	2. The Premonition

**A/N: Celia's part. Editing by me.**

He didn't like it here at all.

The air was oppressive here, the thick fog clinging to every inch of his body, making his very breath seem laboured. But it was more than that-the very air stunk of death, pain and ruination.

The sense of the place made him frightened deep in his gut, and Severus would have turned and fled had the shadowy figure of Lucius Malfoy not been in his view of ahead of him, requiring him to follow, to go on.

They came over a hill and he saw the tops of several crooked gravestones rise out of the mist like looming ships.

Lucius turned around, his hood slipping from his head for a brief second before he fixed it again. His cold, pale eyes stared into Severus's emotionless black ones. Emotionless on the outside, that was good, because his insides were blazing with fear.

"We have come, master" Lucius said, and Severus found himself surrounded by cloaked figures with white masks, which eerily reflected the moonlight. He looked up just in time to see the figure step out of the fog and into the circle. His heart rate sped up dangerously.

Severus desperately tried to think of a reason not to do this, but he knew no one would care what the hell he did anyway. If he turned around and went back to Hogwarts, what would there be to gain? Nothing. They would all just laugh at him, just like they always had. But he would show them. He was better than all of them, those filthy Mudbloods and Muggle lovers.

And all of a sudden, the hatred that Severus had lost along with his appetite upon leaving Hogwarts with Lucius to go here came back with a strong force. He was no longer afraid, he was feverishly excited.

The proceedings were fairly simple. Lord Voldemort asked him if he believed himself worthy, Lucius vouched for him, and the Cruciatus Curse was performed on him. Severus didn't mind. His own father had performed the curse on him several times. Voldemort seemed impressed and beckoned him off the ground.

Severus came over to Voldemort, who took his left arm and twisted it so that the forearm was facing upwards. He then rolled up the sleeve of Severus's robe, past the marks, now scabbing over on his painfully thin wrist, and up to the crook of his elbow. Taking his finger, the Dark Lord pressed on Severus's forearm.

As he felt the burning in his arm start to subside, something happened. Severus found himself looking down on himself, only it was not him anymore. The person getting the Dark Mark burned into him had blond hair slicked back on his head, was wearing a smirk on his flawless face, and had pale blue eyes.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Severus awoke in his private chambers, shivering with cold sweat running down his body. He noticed his blankets had fallen to the floor beside his bed and retrieved them.

Severus tried to be calm, but he couldn't stop his body from shaking and it was a while before he got it back under control.

He had had nightmares before, sure - he could probably start a filing cabinet of them. Lately, he never got a break from them. He thought that they had started around the time that Lucius had mentioned to him in passing how Draco was getting to 'that age.' Lucius. He was the main manipulator in all of this, wasn't he? Always had been, the bastard. How many people had he recruited for the Dark Lord?

This dream had been different from the others though. It had been so clear, so vivid, as if the horrible event had just taken place yesterday. This had also been the first time Draco was featured in one of his nightmares.

Severus suddenly started to sweat again intensely for no apparent reason. But he had a strong sixth sense and he knew why.

Something bad had just happened tonight.

And he thought he knew what it was.

**Damn, I love that girl! Props to Celia for kicking my ass on this chapter!**


	3. The Confrontation

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.**

**The Confrontation**

Draco sighed as he made his way down to the dungeons from his Hogwarts dorm. School had been in session for a while now, but winter break had just ended, signaling the beginning of a fresh wave of torture for the seventh year students. And not the good kind, either.

But that wasn't the only thing on his mind. Classes were one thing, but there were other things that Draco felt the need to concern himself with. Within a matter of minutes he would walk into Snape's class. It would be the first time since receiving his Dark Mark that the two would meet. Draco wasn't looking forward to this, as he knew that Snape's reaction would be just as he predicted - not happy in the slightest.

_Oh well_, Draco figured as he descended the stairs that led to Snape's dungeon, _I can't hide from him forever_. With that, he strode into the cold classroom, head held high, ready to insult the first Gryffindor that crossed his path. He purposefully walked close to Snape's desk and uttered a greeting, as if only to keep up pretenses. It would be suspicious if the prized Slytherin failed to comment to the one who kept him as a pet.

Snape returned the greeting, scrutinizing Draco's face as he inquired as to the events of his vacation. Draco had figured this would happen, and had a pre-planned lie laid out since before school had resumed. He maintained a straight, emotionless face as he responded, and was pleased to see that Snape did not inquiry further.

Draco took his seat in the back of the classroom, noting that Potter and his no-good friends had somehow managed to return from break alive and well. Draco swore under his breath, hoping that they would somehow spontaneously combust sometime during the class. Now that would be something to see.

However, his dreams were unrealized as the next hour passed without major incident. Draco was somewhat disappointed, but kept himself busy with brewing his potion, which required the sum of his attention.

As was to be expected, when there is someone such as Neville Longbottom in the class, fairly normal proceedings were interrupted with only moments left in class. The great oaf added the improper amount of powdered unicorn horn into his cauldron, causing a loud cracking noise as the room was filled with putrid black smoke. In all the confusion, someone, probably St. Potter or one of the like, backed into Draco, making for even more chaos as Draco and the idiot fell to the ground, taking Draco's perfectly brewed potion with them.

Snape took control of the situation immediately, which Draco would have noticed sooner, had the substance that had spilled from his cauldron not made its way onto his left arm and proceeded to acidly burn through his robes onto his pale skin. The smoke was banished with a wave of a wand, and the atmosphere of the room returned to normal. Draco heaved himself off the floor, deliberately kicking the person who had crashed into him in the process. One look at his arm told him that the situation was not good.

Snape hurried over to him, wand out, and seized Draco's arm with his long, thin fingers. He quickly shoved the sleeve of Draco's robes up past his elbow, pausing only momentarily to observe the marking that marred the otherwise perfect skin. With a wave of his wand, the potion that had burned Draco's skin was gone, and the skin healed as if nothing had happened. The sleeve came back down and Snape turned briskly on his heel and strode back to his position in the front of the room, but not before hissing something in the student's ear.

"Malfoy, see me after class."

Draco's heart sank. It was never a good sign when Snape began referring to him on a last-name basis. His stomach clenched in apprehension as his right hand moved subconsciously to grasp his left forearm. There was no way for him to get out of this one.

The bell rang, and the remainder of the class filed out of the room after filling a vial with their potion and leaving it on Snape's desk. Only Draco remained, reluctant to comply with his senior's orders. Instead of moving to the front of the room immediately, he lingered in the back, pulling something out of the pocket of his robes. He lit up a joint of marijuana with a flick of his wand and brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag. He blew the smoke out through his nose as he sauntered to the front of the room, where Snape was waiting for him.

**Wow, this is kinda short, but I decided that it would be too long if I covered the entire confrontation, so I determined that I would leave that to Celia for the three day weekend we have starting tomorrow. Please R&R!**


	4. The Confrontation Part II

**Disclaimer: We still own absolutely nothing. I assure you, if I owned Draco, he and I would be far, far away in a room lit with candles, filled with silky pillows and leather…and if Celia owned Severus I'd assume she'd be somewhere similar. So there.**

Severus watched Draco saunter toward him as the rest of the class filed out of the dungeons as quickly as they could go. That was fine with Severus. The quicker they left, the sooner he and Draco would be left alone.

When the young Malfoy had first walked into the classroom, Severus had known something was wrong. The boy was a fool to think he could hide anything from him. Then Draco had talked to him as usual, but this time everything he said had been a lie. Severus, being the superb Legilimens that he was, could see it in his eyes, those eyes that were so pale icy blue, and almost beautifully cruel.

When Draco had been burnt by that idiot Longbottom's asinine attempt at potion making, Severus had seen the potion seep into Draco's left arm. He had known this was his opportunity, and when administering to the burn, he had pulled Draco's sleeve up farther than needed. It was then that his worst fear was confirmed in good, visible proof.

He had felt an odd mix of anger and grief wash over him and demanded that Draco stay after class. Then he had spent the rest of the class at his desk instead of checking potions, wondering what the hell he was going to tell the kid that could change the damage that had already been done.

And now everyone had left the room, and there was no one but Draco and himself. Draco had reached Severus's desk and was standing in the type of fashion that seemed to be reserved for spoiled rich kids who thought nothing could touch them.

Bloody hell, was he really that naïve? Did the idiot see what danger he had just placed himself in?

Severus noticed that Draco was smoking, perhaps to relieve his anxiety.

"Put it away Malfoy," he snapped in an irritable tone.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly, but he complied. Severus knew that Draco was thinking how hypocritical that sounded, seeing as Severus had a joint or two in his office which he knew he would be visiting once this little chat was over.

There was a moment of silence between them before Draco spoke.

"What did you want to see me about, Professor?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, unmistakable anger on his face. "You know perfectly well what I want to talk to you about." Leaning forward, he said in a deadly whisper "How could you? After I specifically warned you against it, Draco. Do you have any idea how abysmally stupid and irreversible what you have just done to yourself is?"

Draco apparently was offended by this.

"The Dark Lord was impressed by me," he said suddenly. "He found me worthy to follow him _faithfully." _He said this last word hintingly, and the implication was not lost on Severus.

"Give me your arm, Draco," Severus said calmly, mastering himself.

Draco scowled but obediently held out his arm. Severus once more examined the dark mark, this time running one long pale finger over the freshly branded skin. He thought he heard Draco shiver slightly as his finger finished its route down his arm, where it lingered just a little too long on his otherwise rather sickeningly unblemished, porcelain skin before he drew his hand away and rolled down Draco's sleeve, their eyes connecting as he did so.

And somehow Severus found himself feeling strangely jealous of Draco. Jealous of his obvious wealth, his supportive father, his gang of friends and two bodyguards who were no doubt waiting just outside the door for him, and jealous of his innocence in thinking that the world was his plaything when really it was the other way around. He had never had so many feelings at one time, and they frightened him, as emotions always did.

Severus supposed it was Lucius he was really mad at. Lucius who should never have been a father.

As if he could read Severus's thoughts, Draco began talking about Lucius.

"My father became a deatheater in his seventh year too. He excelled in school that year, and is still better off than ever. What makes you think I'll be any less successful?"

Severus didn't mention to Draco that he had been doing Lucius's homework in seventh year, or that Draco's daddy dearest was an absolute ass who cared nothing for what happened to his son, and only for what could be achieved through him.

He only stared at Draco, who looked quietly triumphant. The bell rang for the next class, but neither of them moved.

_The Dark Lord was impressed by me also, _Severus thought of telling him, as if that would prove some absurd point.

"My father approves," Draco started up again, "Everyone else approves except for you."

Severus didn't answer. His intensely cold black eyes bored into Draco. Yet there was a touch of sadness that he could not control in his voice when he asked, "And does my opinion matter so little to you that you went and did it anyway?"

Draco looked like he was about to say something, but Severus overrode him. "You fool," he said icily.

Draco looked angry, but Severus could tell that his words had affected him.

"I am not a fool," he said angrily. "I am a Malfoy and a proper Slytherin, and I have a class to go to." He said this last part somewhat shakily, but he kept his head high as he swaggered over to the dungeon door and opened it with a creak. Then he was gone.

"You are a fool," Severus said softly once he was alone in the empty classroom, ignoring the sounds of the next class waiting in line outside his door.

"You are a fool, Draco Malfoy, but it's not your fault."


	5. The Silent Reflections of a Tormented Mi...

**Disclaimer: We own our minds. That's about it.**

**Silent Reflections of a Tormented Mind**

Draco was very unhappy. Not only had Snape found out about what he had done, but had succeeded in making him late for his next class. Of course, Draco had failed to ask for a pass, but he doubted the knowitall would have denied him one anyway.

Draco stormed into his dorm, having remembered at the last minute that his homework was sitting half finished on his oak desk. Damn it, that was just one more thing to blame on Snape. It was all his fault, everything. It was his fault that Draco went to the Dark Lord in the first place.

He had wanted to become a Death Eater for more than one reason. Not only was it his legacy as a Malfoy to follow in his father's footsteps, but there was something else. Draco had felt Severus slipping away from him for a long time now, and that wasn't something that made Draco very happy. There were a limited number of incentives he had for remaining at Hogwarts, and the Potions master was at the top. Was he really so blind that he couldn't see that Draco had done this for him? For them?

Draco slammed the heavy door shut, thankful that no one else was in the dorm. Of course they weren't. They were all in class, like he should be. But what was the point in going now? He was already late, and his homework still wasn't done. It was enough to cause any teacher to mark him for detention for the next week. But Snape wouldn't do that. He would just tell Draco to sit down and get the assignment in when he had the chance. But things just weren't working out that way now, now were they?

Draco fell onto his bed, burying his face into the blood red pillow that sat there. It had been a present from Severus, from the previous year. It was for that reason that Draco treasured it. He inhaled deeply, trying to extract a familiar scent from the object. When he was unsuccessful, Draco threw it aside and pulled another joint from his robes and lit it.

He took a long, slow drag, and let the fumes intoxicate his body and pull the tension away. It was a habit that he had learned from Severus, one day when the both of them had been feeling particularly pent-up. He had shown him how to roll the paper so that the shredded contents remained inside, how to light it with the flick of a wand, how to make it last and take him to another place. But it wasn't working. Not as well as it should. Draco pondered as to why.

He supposed that it was because it was yet another thing that Snape had taught him. He had learned so much from him, and almost everything the younger man did was in reflection of his teacher, his mentor. Damn it, that uncaring bastard seemed to find a way to ruin getting high. Draco didn't think that was possible. His thoughts turned to the conversation they had been engaged in moments before.

Didn't Snape understand that the Dark Lord had been impressed with him? Didn't he understand that for the first time in his life, Draco felt needed, that there was someone out there who had a need for his talents? His father certainly never did. All Draco was to Lucius was someone to carry on his legacy of darkness and deceit. But Draco didn't care. As long as he did what his father wanted, Lucius would keep him around, pretend to care. The Dark Lord doesn't play games like that.

He wanted followers to do his bidding, and if they managed to do it well, he would reward them. Lucius didn't reward Draco in the sense that might seem normal, but Draco felt that it was enough just that he kept him around. That way, Draco could fool himself into thinking he cared. It had worked so far, so why stop now? Why didn't Snape see that Lucius cared about him and wasn't trying to ruin his life? Whatever had gone on between his father and Snape was in the past and shouldn't have a thing to do with the way he was being treated now.

And then he had had the gall to call Draco a fool. Nobody calls a Malfoy a fool to their face and lives to tell the tale. But, for some odd reason, Draco wasn't angry. Perhaps, deep down, he knew that Severus was right. Maybe he _was_ a fool, maybe he _did_ make the wrong decision by joining the Dark Lord. But that wasn't Snape's decision to make. Draco wasn't a little boy anymore, and he was certainly old enough to decide what to do with his life. What right did Snape have to tell him otherwise?

A feeling of red hatred and anger bubbled madly in the pit of Draco's stomach, and suddenly, he knew what had to be done. He had to tell Severus Snape exactly what he thought of him, and he had to do it now.


	6. The Deep Embitterment of a Twisted Mind

Meanwhile, Severus was lying moodily on his stomach on the black silk sheets of his rather medieval looking canopy bed with a large chunk of dark chocolate and a small, very sharp blade sitting next to him in odd contrast.

_This shouldn't be bothering me so much as it is, _he thought bitterly, eyeing the way the firelight danced across the cold silver of the blade. _I don't need Malfoy. His decisions are of no importance to me. It serves him right after all. He thinks he knows it all. _

_But you **do **care, _a small, unwanted voice whispered unbidden in his ear.

"No I don't."

_Then why are you thinking of him now?_

"I don't care, damn it!" Severus spat so venomously that he realized he was speaking out loud.

The sickness came upon him in a sudden rush. He hadn't eaten much of the chocolate, he had never eaten much in his life, but the weight of what little he had consumed was making him feel sick with nausea and something like…guilt.

The chocolate had been given to him by Draco.

_Icy pale blue eyes glared up at him with what tried to be fury mingled with hurt._

Severus sat up so quickly that his bed creaked complainingly. Pressing himself up against the headboard, he drew his bony knees to his similarly bony chest and glared penetratingly at the blade lying in a sinister fashion on the sheets.

How had it gotten there? Severus had no recollection of taking it out of its allotted drawer, though he knew he must have. Was it mere coincidence that the blade, with it's tiny emerald serpent wrapped around the handle, had been a present from Draco? The thing must've cost Malfoy more galleons than Severus wanted to think about. And to think all he could afford to get Draco in return had been a bloody pillow.

Yet Draco had never cared about that. Just like he had never cared about Severus's large nose, unhealthy complexion, woeful hygiene, or the fact that he only had two sets of robes to his name.

While all Severus had ever had for himself was loathing and disgust, Draco thought he had some worth. Severus couldn't begin to figure out why.

Severus snapped out of his reverie when he noticed he was now holding the blade between the thin, scarred fingers of one hand while stroking it lightly up and down with a finger from his other hand.

And then he understood why the blade was there.

With a soft noise of disgust, Severus got up and placed the blade back where it belonged, in the back of the drawer in his bedside table. His eyes lingered on it longer than was healthy, as if not trusting it to stay put.

Severus reached out his hand slowly towards the drawer, retracted it, reached out again, and snapped the drawer shut and locked it this time.

Relief flooded through his being as soon as the thing was out of sight. He didn't know what he had been doing with it in the first place. Well, truthfully he did, but he had given up that habit long ago, given it up because of _him_.

Severus cast a glance at the cursed mirror across the room from him, the one which he avoided looking at at all costs. His face looked at least five years older than he was, skeletal, with lank, greasy hair surrounding it. The little blood that had ever been in his face was drained from his unappealing visage, and his eyes looked strangely haunted.

"Lord, I need a smoke," he stated with a sardonic edge to his voice. That was one habit he couldn't afford to let go of. If he did, he just might go insane. Taking a fresh joint from an inner pocket of his robes, Severus skillfully lit it with his wand, brought it to his mouth, and took an extremely long, slow drag, welcoming the intoxication as it crept through his veins.

He got exactly ten pure seconds of relief before the image hit him.

"_I am not a fool," Draco Malfoy said haughtily, his pale cheeks involuntarily suffused with a pink flush, his voice filled with a defiant pride._

_The rustle of a sleeve being pulled up, and the dark mark flashing up at him, still raw around the edges._

Severus stood in the middle of his chambers, not daring to move lest the foreign emotions pent up inside decided to rip their way out.

And then, miraculously, the hatred came, and then the neutrality. Severus had done what he was best at and mastered himself.

Turning cold dark eyes to his bed where the bitter dark chocolate was still sitting.

_Bitter and dark. Amazing how taste corresponds with personality _Severus thought dryly. He took the chocolate and dropped it in his metal waste basket. The sound it made was empty and almost forlorn.

Severus sneered.

He did not care.

He would not care.

Ever.

Again.

Because caring only hurt you in the end.

Later on, the lunch period at Hogwarts ended, and Severus was due to teach a fresh batch of Hufflepuff first years who still needed the crap scared out of them.

Severus woke up from his sprawled position on his bed with a dull pounding headache and the urge to inflict pain.

To show the world that he didn't bloody care about anything.

As usual, he was on time for his class, and was just finishing the tedious roll call always necessary for first years when the heavy door to his dungeon slammed open on its hinges and Draco Malfoy stormed in.

Go


	7. The Confrontations of Two Bitter Souls

Draco came dangerously close to smirking when he saw the look on Severus's pale face when he came bursting into the dungeon. Almost. He was too angry and full of rage to actually take joy in the blank shock and near-glimmer of fear in the other man's eyes. Wait... fear?

Draco paused momentarily to ponder such a thing, then continued what he was doing. He stormed over to Severus's desk and said in a deadly quiet voice:

"We need to talk."

Snape gave the smallest of nods and motioned for Draco to wait outside. When he refused, the former gave a light sigh and shot a quick glance at the first year Hufflepuffs that were annoyingly still in the room.

"Get out." That was it. Two words directed to a group of miscreants who wouldn't know subtlety if it danced naked in front of them in a House elf's tea cozy. Did they listen? Noooo. Of course not. One of the bolder students raised a tentative hand and spoke before being called on.

"But Professor, what about class?" Snape didn't dignify the question with a real response, didn't threaten detention for the rest of the year like he normally would have. Instead, he directed his icy glare at the student, and watched with satisfaction as the class scurried out the heavy doors just as fast as their little legs could carry them.

The moment they were alone, Severus slammed the dungeon doors shut with a wave of his wand and turned back to face Draco.

"Just what the _hell_ do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Severus's voice was low, quiet, more frightening than the one he used to control entire classes with. If Draco had been a bit smarter, and in his right mind, he would have noticed the danger there and then, but he wasn't and he didn't. Instead, he plowed on in a pigheaded attempt at revenge.

"What the hell do I think _I'm_ doing?" He asked in boarder-line hysteria, "What the hell do you think _you're_ doing? What right do you have to tell me that I, Draco Malfoy, the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, am a fool? Do you have _any_ idea who you're toying with?"

Severus stared at him, his dark eyes boring into Draco's pale ones. The arrogance that filled the boys words was admirable, but... Was he really that naive? Could he honestly not see what he had gotten himself into? How he had ruined his life?

When Severus remained silent, Draco continued.

"My father is proud of me for the first time in my life. That means more to me than you ever will, do you understand me?"

Something in Severus's mind clicked as anger bubbled deep within him.

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? The only thing that matters to you is what your dear father thinks of you, is that right? I have news for you _Malfoy_, your father isn't the person who you think he is."

Draco felt the overwhelming desire to pounce on Snape and rip his tongue out so that he could no longer utter such blasphemes against Lucius. Couldn't he see that Father _did_ care about him, that now he could make Father proud?

"You know nothing about my father," Draco spat. "He is more of a man than you can ever hope to be. _He_ would never betray the Dark Lord for some trivial thing. _He_ would never betray the trust the Dark Lord put in him. _He_ would never-"

"He would never give a damn about you if you didn't serve his cause!" Severus exploded, finally having had enough of the boy's hotheaded spouting.

Draco froze, the words he was about to utter died on his lips.

_No,_ he thought desperately, _That can't be true, it just can't. Father does care about me, and not just because I do what he wants me to. No, the one who doesn't give a damn about me is the person standing in front of me. If he really cared, he wouldn't be saying these things. He's the one who doesn't care, not Father._

"No!" Draco yelled, face flushed red with anger, "Father does care, he does! You're the one who doesn't, you're the one who-"

"Draco Malfoy, you are a fool. And I don't spend my time consorting with fools. Get out of my dungeon."

"I will NOT. You-"

Just then, the pair noticed the door to the dungeon had been open for some time. And who else would be standing there other than Neville Longbottom, looking frightened out of his mind.


	8. The Conflicting Minds of Fools

"Longbottom," Severus hissed, being the first one to speak upon seeing the scared face of that idiot boy who dared to stand in his doorway.

Neville looked wonderously scared, which made Severus's mood lift ever so slightly. Instead of leaving, which would have been the wise thing to do, Longbottom just stood there, stuttering.

"P-professor s-sir, I left my b-b-bag in here," Neville managed to say, looking as if he would faint in fright at any moment.

Fortunately for Neville, looks don't literally kill the person being glanded.

"Is that so, Longbottom?" Severus breathed, taking a step over to the door. Neville backed up a step, nodding weakly. He had wet his pants now. Joy.

Severus's black eyes glinted with malice.

"Then I'd suggest you keep better track of your belongings. 50 points from Gryffindor, and if you ever disturb me again with such mundane matters, you will be very sorry indeed."

Severus reached out and slammed the dungeon door shut in the boy's terrified face, and turned around with a sweeping motion to face Draco, who looked just as angry, but as if he had forgotton what was on the tip of his tongue.

At the sight of the foolish boy standing there glaring at him with unbridled hatred and anger, all of Severus's mixed up emotions came back to him in a flash, and he thought he'd just as soon be tutoring Longbottom than these ridiculous things called feelings. Anger he could express, anger was okay, anger was safe. And so with anger, Severus turned on Draco.

"I am through with you today, Malfoy," he spat, using the surname as if it were distasteful to him and this boy in front of him was just another student who meant nothing to him. "You will return to your house common room immediately until your next class."

Draco was incensed, Severus could feel the frustration radiating off of him. No doubt the brat would speak out.

"I will not leave just because you command it," Draco smirked, "If money is power than I find-

Severus cut him off. "You will leave me. Now!"

Pointing one long finger, trembling with contained hysteria, towards the door, his dark eyes flashed.

Draco turned, an air of stony anger and unconcealed pride and defiance about him, and strutted to the entrance of the dungeon. He paused at the door and turned to face Severus once more.

"Or maybe _you're _the fool, ever thought of that? You could have had it so much easier you know. The Dark Lord rewards those who stay behind him. He always finds out about those who don't. What is there to gain by defying him? They don't care for you here either, you know. So don't talk to me about making the wrong choices. I'm on the winning team here, and I plan for it to stay that way."

"This is a war, Malfoy, not some fickle, feebleminded game."

"And it seems that we're on separate sides."

With that said, Draco stalked off. The door shut behind him, and for some reason, he couldn't bear the dull sound it made.

_That stupid boy, that stupid Malfoy and his dumb-ass Daddy Dearest. Thinks he knows everything, doesn't he? _

_Did I make the wrong choice? _

Severus grabbed the closest thing to him (Longbottom's bag) and threw it at the door with all the might of his anger. It hit hard, and something shattered inside.

"_My father is proud of me for the first time in my life. That means more to me than you ever will, understand?"_

And that was when a feeling came back to Severus, a very old, very familiar feeling. The self-loathing washed over Severus in a wave, bringing more anger with it, and before Severus knew it he was in his bedchamber, standing next to an open drawer, swaying slightly in a dreaded anticipation.

The emerald serpent's ruby eyes glinted up at Severus as he fumbled with his sleeve and pressed the cold blade up against his wrist. Relief flooded through his pounding veins, as a dark red rivulet coursed it's way down Severus's arm, marring the image of his dark mark.

He did not understand how he had gone so long without this. Draco Malfoy had made him. How had not minded then. Because of Malfoy. But Malfoy wasn't there now. Malfoy wasn't ever there.

He was a fool.

And so, Severus fell back on the motto that had been his ever since his days as a friendless teenager attending Hogwarts.

Release.

Minerva McGonagall was in a huff. Neville Longbottom had come back to her class hours ago with nothing in his hands, when she had deliberately sent the boy to get his bookbag. He had told her that a certain Potions Master would not give it to him.

As a member of her house, Minerva thought that Neville had a good deal of potential, if only he could learn to assert himself and keep himself in a positive light. And Severus Snape was not helping.

It was now a little before dinnertime, and Minerva was making her hurried way down to the dungeons to have a word with Severus, that was, if he wasn't at the Great Hall already.

Drawing her cloak tighter about her to keep out the cold, McGonagall knocked three sharp taps on the dungeon door.

When no one answered, she let herself in a little impatiently, and hearing something shift from behind the door, found Neville Longbottom's bookbag, lying quite forlornly on the ground. Picking it up, she turned to leave, guessing Severus was at dinner, when something caught her eye.

The entrance to Severus's office was open. Severus _never _kept his office door open. Getting a faint feeling of discomfort, Minerva went to close it, and found the entrance to Severus's bedchambers open.

This was highly unusual indeed.

"Severus?" Minerva asked the still air, her breath dissipating in front of her. She shivered as her sense of foreboding increased.

Only one thing left to do, she thought, then she would go to dinner. Striding across the empty office to the entrance of Snape's chambers, Minerva looked in and froze.

"My God" she choked out in one horrified breath. Dropping Neville's bag on the floor, she ran to get the headmaster.


	9. The Idle Thoughts of Injured Souls

By the time that Dumbledore had been informed, Minerva had hardly calmed down at all. Now, she was on her way to claim Draco Malfoy from the Great Hall, for what reason she was unsure.

Her heart pounded as she strode through the large doors, meaning in her steps. For a moment Minerva faltered. Malfoy, Malfoy... He would be at the Slytherin table. She cast her gaze about, searching for the boy in question.

Ah ha, there he was, surrounded by his goons, as usual. Minerva found purpose in her steps again and walked briskly over to the Slytherin table.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco turned his head to gaze at her in an irritable fashion.

"What?"

The snide comment went unmentioned - but not to say unnoticed - by the Head of Gryffindor House.

"You are to come with me immediately."

When she offered no further explanation, Draco shrugged arrogantly and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to remain where they were. He stood and followed Minerva out the door.

As the moved deeper and deeper within the castle, a sinking feeling began to formulate in the pit of Draco's stomach. Without being told, he knew where they were going, but had no idea why. It might have something to do with that bumbling idiot Longbottom, he figured, and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Unfortunately, it kept resurfacing. Eventually, Draco decided to ask about it.

"Er, Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Minerva responded without turning around, her pace quickening as they neared the dungeons.

"I don't suppose it would be in your objective to inform me as to why we are traipsing all over the castle when I could be sitting happily in the Great Hall eating?"

Minerva ignored the tone and implications of the question and answered cooly.

"You will see soon enough, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco grumbled, unsatisfied with the cryptic answer. The two were now very close to the location of Snape's dungeon, very close indeed. And with every step the anticipation in the pit of Draco's stomach increased.

Finally, they reached the heavy stone doors. Minerva stopped abruptly, causing Draco to nearly collide with her backside. Draco peered around her, into the empty classroom, pondering as to why they were there.

Eventually, Minerva sufficiently braced herself, as was evident by the deep intake of breath. They continued on into the room, to where the doors to Snape's private chambers were still open.

Draco's stomach clenched. Severus never, ever left the doors to his chambers open. Even when he, Draco wanted to enter he had to knock and wait for the door to be opened for him. Whatever the reason for them being here, it could not be good.

They crossed the threshold of the room, and Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey came into view. They were both crouched on the ground leaning over...Oh God, no, it couldn't be.

Draco gasped audibly. Albus heard the intake of breath looked up at him. Draco didn't notice, as he was otherwise occupied, staring blankly at Severus's pale form. He was paler than usual, which didn't seem possible. It was as if all the blood had drained...Draco suddenly came to an understanding as his gaze moved to Severus's wrists, which were now bandaged, but still bloody. Draco's eyes went wide. He wouldn't. Would he?

Albus observed the boy's reaction for a moment longer. He then motioned for Minerva and Madame Pomfrey to leave them. They did, and soon Draco and Dumbledore were the only ones left in the room. Well, and Severus, but he didn't seem to be in a real position to count as a person at the moment.

Albus stared at Draco staring at Snape's body, the color draining from his usually-proud face. He allowed the boy another moment to recover from the shock.

"Draco," he said softly, comfortingly, abandoning the typical formalities of a student-teacher conversation, "Do you know why this happened?"

Draco shook his head, ignoring the voice in the corner of his mind that was screaming Yes, he did.

"Well, why don't we ask Severus then, hmm?"

Draco stared at him. How was that possible? It looked for all the while like Snape was...

"Dead? No, no, my dear boy. Not dead at all, simply exhausted." Draco was startled out of his reverie as Dumbledore gently propped Severus up and lifted his wand to the latter's temple.

"_Excito sursum."_

**In case anybody was wondering, which I'm sure you weren't, _excito sursum_ means 'wake up' in Latin. Of course, if you asked a real Latin speaking person, they'd probably refute that claim, but hey, working with a free online translator here. Cut me some slack.**


	10. The Things That Lie Behind Dead Eyes

Severus felt his eyes opening rather painfully. He felt oddly drugged, and very faint and weak.

That was when the memory of what must have happened hit Severus. A hardly noticeable glance down at his wrists wrapped in bandages confirmed it to be true.

Standing in front of him, he could see Dumbledore, a worried look upon his old face, and slightly to the side of and behind Dumbledore was…

No, it couldn't be, he couldn't be seeing this, couldn't be seeing him like this! Severus's mind reeled in panic for a split second before he was able to bring his emotions under control. Draco's face looked scared, though he probably didn't know it.

A whole bunch of feelings threatened to rush through Severus's head when he saw Malfoy, but he suppressed them.

In Dumbledore's eyes, Severus could see disappointment, and he knew what the Headmaster was thinking. He had been convinced, because of the past eight months or so that Severus was getting over his uglier habits of self-condemnation. And Severus supposed that he had, in a way.

Only Dumbledore didn't know why.

"Severus." Dumbledore spoke to him softly yet clearly. "How did this happen?"

Severus sneered. "I thought that would be obvious," he said sourly.

Dumbledore sighed, a little impatiently. "You know what I mean, Severus. Why did you do this to yourself?"

Severus was silent. He could not seem to think of a retort for once in his life. His dark eyes darted to Draco for a fraction of a second before he went back to staring impassively back at Dumbledore.

Anyone else would have faltered under the gaze that was directed at him, but Dumbledore pressed on.

"Severus, what happened?" he asked, in a last attempt to get the man to spill.

"Nothing happened, that's what. Now will you bloody well leave me alone?" Severus snapped moodily, without warning. He then leaned his head back against the back of his bed, exhausted.

Dumbledore, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere, stole a glance at Draco, who was standing in the same place as before. The blood had come back to his face, but he still hadn't said a thing. How…unlike him. A vague suspicion tugged at Dumbledore's mind, though whether it really was suspicion or actual knowledge, he didn't know for sure.

Staring back at Severus, who appeared to be ignoring his presence now, a wave of memories came back to Dumbledore. This wasn't the first time he had seen Severus like this, and Severus knew it.

This was the same boy who had attempted to commit suicide in his third year at Hogwarts by ingesting poison, in his fifth year by jumping from the Astronomy tower, in his sixth year by throttling himself, and most recently during his first year as a teacher by attempting to drown himself in his chambers. Luckily, Albus or someone else had come along to prevent it every time.

Albus doubted that Severus had been trying to kill himself this time, the cutting was more of an extremely unhealthy habit of self abuse, the reason for the criss-crossing of scars on Severus's wrists and arms, and the reason the Potions Master always wore robes that covered up these parts, even on the most sweltering hot of days. It appeared that this time however, Severus had gotten carried away.

Dumbledore considered Severus as something similar to a son, and had felt a certain amount of guilt when Severus turned to the Dark Lord at the end of his seventh year. Somehow he felt like there was something he may have done to prevent it from happening which he had failed to do. For this reason he felt strangely responsible for the young man, after all, he did spy for them and bring back valuable information to the Order. But…tonight's events had seemed so sudden and unexpected. As far as his knowledge went, nothing had changed in Severus's life. Why this now?

There had to be a reason, and he intended to find out with time.


	11. The Twisted Thoughts of Ignorant Minds

**A/N: Gomen nasai! I'm ever so sorry for taking so long to update, there's really no excuse. But I know you'll all forgive me anyway, because I'm just so kind and lovable like that. Besides, I think this chapter more than makes up for the wait.**

Albus waited a few moments more to see if either Severus or Draco would reveal anything. When they didn't he took his leave, leaving the other two alone in the chilly room.

Neither Draco nor Severus spoke for many minutes. When one did, it was Draco.

"Why...?" His voice shook more than Draco would have liked, and he only intoned one word on account of it. He wasn't sure if he could have managed more, anyway, as his throat was tight and mouth was dry with worry.

Severus shifted his dark gaze from the stone floor to the youth.

"Why do you _think_?" The words were spat with venom, meant to hurt the way he had been hurt so many times before. Draco looked taken aback by the ferocity in which the sentence had been uttered and required a moment to compose himself. When he did, he resorted to his usual tactics - blunt and cold.

"Why do _I _think? Are you really asking my why I believe you to be so much of an idiot to do something like this to yourself?"

Twin glares were sent across the room.

Severus sat up straighter on his bed and shot back,

"You think _I_ am the idiot! _I _am not the one who decided to follow his ignorant father's lead and join the ranks of a monster who will never, ever harbor anything for you other than a feeling that you are something he can use to achieve his means."

Draco stiffened.

"Such words make me wonder if you are referring to the Dark Lord or my father. We both know you hold him in distaste and wish that I never aligned myself with him." Before Severus could retort, Draco continued. "Well, that is _not_ your decision to make. _I _decided to follow my father, _I _ determined it was in my best interests to join the Death Eaters, _I-"_

_"You_ are a fool. You are a stupid, arrogant, naive, ignorant _fool_, Draco Malfoy, and it is entirely your father's fault. If he had not fed you those false stories of the dark side, you would not have been so eager to join Voldemort. If he had not raised you the way all Malfoys have been raised since the beginning of time, you would never have bought into his lies and-" He was cut off as Draco lunged at him.

"What my father - and I - believe is _none of your bloody business,_ do you understand! Nobody forced me to think the way I do, no one instructed that I do anything that I do. No one, that is, except _you_. _You _are the _only one_ who condemns my actions, my choices. I don't know why I continue to put up with your insolent prattling."

With that, Draco turned on his heel and strutted back out the door, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts.


	12. The Calling

**The Calling**

Severus paced his chambers moodily. It was nearing the end of the school year, and he had not seen Draco except during classes, in which Severus now refused to call on him, looking away coldly and curling his lip in disgust. Lately, Severus was only ever seen in classes, rarely coming up from the bowels of the castle to prowl the halls. For this the students were indescribably relieved, for lately Professor Snape had been the cause of double the tearful, trembling breakdowns that he was usually responsible for. Put-downs bounced off the walls of the dungeons, as Severus's tongue lashed at spirits like a scourge.

I will get them. I will hurt them. They can't get me. They can't hurt me.

Most of Severus's self-inflicted wounds had faded, leaving rough, tender scars on his wrists. But he was far from healed.

Blinded by a mindless fury and white-hot hate, Severus only stopped his quick pacing to draw back his left sleeve and bare his yellow teeth at the ugly mark marring his sallow skin, his expression a mixture of horror, regret, and…yes, fear, that cursed dignity-stripping vice. If Draco saw him like this…

Why do you care? the nasty little voice inside his head shot at him immediately. Thought you were done with him…thought he was a fool.

A bolt of pain shot through Severus, beginning at his forearm and snaking down his body like an enormous electric shock. He tried to cry out but it felt as if his lungs were on fire.

Not this again, not this. Why?

"Why?"

The word came out weakly from Severus's lips once the pain had subsided. Severus found himself lying on his back on the cold stone floor, struggling to draw in breath while clutching his left forearm convulsively. The flesh underneath his thin fingers seemed to crawl, almost to bite, as if it didn't belong to him anymore.

And it doesn't.

This time he found his mind too wracked by the agony to block out his own contemptuous thoughts.

It doesn't because I sold it. I sold myself.

Severus turned over onto his stomach and felt his ribs press harshly against the unforgiving stone as he inched forward between bursts of pain. With no fixed idea of where he was going, Severus crawled for what seemed like half an hour but was probably only five minutes. All he knew was that that he had to stop the pain, had to stop the ceaseless aching thumping in his mind. He felt as if his heart had gone and in its place was an enormous, swollen diseased horror, bursting to get out of his chest.

When Severus had reached the bathroom adjacent to his room, he grasped for the countertop feebly, as if trying to fight for air. On his fifth try, Severus was able to pull himself upwards, only to lean forwards suddenly over the sink with a violent motion as the treacherous parasite on his arm wormed its way deeper.

Clutching the edges of the sink so as to keep from falling over, Severus could see his face dimly reflected in the mirror, whiter than parchment, and frightening. It had never been this strong before. Maybe once, but that had been upon His return. Severus had hoped he would never have to experience something like that again. That had been the worst time. He had thought surely the Dark Lord would see through him, finish him. But he had gotten away.

With the final waves of pain ebbing away, Severus roughly tore off his robes. The heat seemed oppressive now, though he was in the cold dungeons. Not bothering to close the door (they were his chambers after all), Severus leaned heavily with his back against the sink looking away from the mirror. He watched disinterestedly as a rat or mouse or something darted across the dusty shower floor across from him. His eyes roved to the shower curtain hangings, the pole which held them up, and a spark of interest? madness? arose in his eyes.

He could end it.

That was one power on one could take from him, not the dark Lord, not the bumbling, meddling Headmaster, not the Malfoy brat.

Malfoy. Is he feeling this too?

Severus drew back his hand, which up until now had been idly feeling the pole from which the shower curtain hung.

Testing its strength.

The thought of Draco froze him. Of course Malfoy felt it, everyone in the fold felt the call.

Probably died from the pain. Stupid spoiled brat aristocratic idiot.

Would he go to Him?

Yes, of course he would. The Dark Lord would most likely give him some dangerous new task and welcome him into his ranks. Severus felt a pang of deep jealousy. They would never be as accepting of him. He knew what whispering behind his back went on when he was at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. The place he came back to after coming within an inch of his death –for it was no easy task to spy on the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters—the place he came back to for approval from Dumbledore and mistrust and doubt from everyone else.

Why was he doing this?

He could end it.

No. If he did that, Draco might think it was because of him. Severus couldn't imagine how smug that would make Draco, how weak it would make him.

Severus looked down at his bare arm. Blood was oozing out of the mark.

He felt the calling, and the calling could not be ignored.

"Severus, how pleased I am that you could make it," the soft hiss of a voice Severus knew all too well came through the fog. Severus did not know where he was, or where the dreaded voice was coming from.

"My Lord," he acknowledged reverently, managing to keep any trace of fear out of his voice. He was alone. This was no mass meeting of Death Eaters, this was Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort. Alone. One on one, you could say.

"I have called you here like this because not all others can be trusted, you know what I mean Severus."

Severus's mouth felt dry, but it was nothing compared to the feeling he felt when he heard the next few words.

"I have called you here because I have formed a plan. A plan I think you will be interested in hearing."

**A/N: You know what plan Voldemort is talking about if you read book 6. That's all I'm saying.**


	13. The Pained Thoughts of Pathetic Souls

**Now that Celia FINALLY updated /throws update party, confetti flies around/ I finally get to. Which is awesome, since I've been neglecting all my Harry Potter fics for Law and Order, which seems to have invaded my brain. I wouldn't be overjoyed just yet though, since I'm notorious for putting up super short chapters that don't even really deserve to be called chapters. I don't suppose I could blame that on writer's block?**

Draco stormed back to his dormitory in a huff after yet another disdainful Potions class. Not only was Snape refusing to call on him, let alone _look_ at him, but the bastard was causing the other students to wonder what was going on. Even the thicker-minded in the class could sense the tension in the dungeon, and it would not take long for the brighter minds to put two and two together.

Upon finding Crabbe and Goyle waiting there for him, Draco spat a word of displeasure and they left him alone with his thoughts. Draco paced angrily, working out his problems.

_Why do you even care_? the annoying little voice in the back of his head asked, _He screwed you over, and now you have to pay for it? How is that fair?_

_It's not. _Draco thought, _It's not fair at all. Life isn't fair, but I am a Malfoy. What we want, we receive. There is no debate. But him... he doesn't get that. He treats me just like everyone else, as if my family means nothing to him. As if I  mean nothing to him. And that is just unacceptable. _

Draco drew his wand from his robes and fingered it. He thought of all the delicious ways he could make the older man suffer, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The smirk was quickly replaced by a frown as he realized that most of the techniques he was thinking of applying were taught to him by none other than the one he was trying to get away from.

_Damn it! He even takes the joy out of torture. _Draco snarled, completing the trademarked Malfoy look. He sat down on the nearest bed and rolled up his left sleeve.

That was where the Dark Lord had branded him. That was where his allegiance to Voldemort was marked. That was where his loyalty lay, not with Snape. Snape thought he was a fool, but Draco knew better. He knew better because the Dark Lord knew better. And the Dark Lord had said Draco had made the right choice. That was what mattered, not what Snape said.

So then why was Draco getting so agitated by this? He hardly had time to contemplate the matter when the mark that marred his porcelain skin glowed black. The skin began to burn, causing Draco to gasp in pain. He didn't think it would hurt this much.

The pain intensified, and Draco had to double over in order to remain conscious. Black stars twinkled in his line of vision and a red-hot burning sensation made its way up and down his forearm.

He fell to the floor, writhing in agony. The cold stone tiles provided little comfort from the burning, but did help a little. The pain subsided momentarily and Draco made the mistake of thinking the worst was over. Before his mind had fully formulated the thought, the pain came flooding back, worse than before. Draco gasped as tears began to form in his eyes. He was weak. There was nothing more to it.

More than anything, Draco wanted the pain to stop. Everything would be all right if the pain would just subside and stay down. But there seemed to be no chance of that happening any time soon. The tears that had sprung to Draco's eyes spilled over as another wave of pain crashed over him, trailing wet lines down his normally composed features. Everything was starting to go black.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut tight against the impending blackness. He curled his body into the fetal position on the cold floor, gripping his left arm tightly with his right hand. Then nothing.

**Really really short, I know, I know. Hopefully the next one will be longer. Well, actually, I'm pretty sure it will be, since Celia's chapters are always like twice the size of mine. I can only crank out long ones for SVU. I think there's a problem here, but I can't seem to put my finger on it...**


	14. The Plan Revealed

**Celia would just like to point out that it was 4am when she posted this and is very proud of how it turned out.**

Albus Dumbledore stood on the stairs leading up to Hogwarts, looking out across the grounds into the impending darkness of dusk. The faint crescent moon hung suspended on the chilly air. It was summertime at last, and the last day of school was right around the corner. This would be one of the last peaceful nights when he knew all the students would be sleeping safely in their dormitories.

It was almost dinnertime, but Dumbledore was not hungry at the moment. He was waiting for someone.

It was only a small matter of time before he spotted what he was looking for. A dark, flowing form appeared over the rise of the hill heading down to the Hogwarts gates. Seeming to glide rather than walk, Severus Snape swept across the Hogwarts grounds and up the stairs to where the Headmaster was standing. His head was lowered so that Albus could not see his face, his lank, oily hair swinging slowly back and forth as he walked.

Albus did not need to see the younger man's face to know what he was feeling. Severus smelled of fear.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said clearly, watching him over his half-moon spectacles with a hint of puzzlement. This was due to the fact that, though he could sense Severus's fear, he could not put his finger on exactly what was bothering him.

Severus halted a step lower than Albus, and slowly raised his head to him as he wrapped his traveling cloak tighter around his scrawny frame to keep out the chill air. His black, seemingly pupiless eyes held a haunted, almost frantic look.

"Headmaster," Severus murmured, inclining his head respectably. The Potions Master looked horrible, with dark shadows, looking like smudged bruises, nesting in the hollows under his high cheekbones. His face was terribly gaunt and stretched looking. Dumbledore knew that somewhere, perhaps in an inside pocket of his robes, Severus had his white Death Eater's mask. He had known, through his usual sense of intuition, that Snape had been summoned by Voldemort, and as usual, he had waited for the return of his spy, who had oftentimes maintained damage from the Cruciatus Curse, and, much as he hated to admit it, needed assistance.

This time, however, Severus did not seem to have sustained any damage.

"What news of Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked Severus softly, gently, for his face looked drained of all the blood it might ever have held.

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. The sense of fear coming from him was stronger than Dumbledore had ever sensed before.

"I have…matters to attend to."

Severus's voice was flat and detached. He swept off past the Headmaster without another word.

"Tomorrow, my office then," Dumbledore called after him as he watched Severus disappear into the castle, black robes billowing behind him.

Turning back to the darkening sky, Dumbledore hummed the faint tune to a sad song he couldn't exactly remember the words to.

_Gods help Severus_ he wished on a dull, winking star, the first one he could see in the sky. But a second later, the star had winked out for good, and a while after that, he couldn't even be sure it had been there to begin with.

Severus ran down the stairs to the dungeons, unable to drown out the pounding sensation in his head.

_He's going to have Draco kill Dumbledore. Draco. Draco can't do it, he can't do that._

_Why do you care?_

_Because the boy is completely incompetent! He'll get himself killed trying to complete a task like that._

_Ah…and why do you care about that?_

"_Shut up," _Severus hissed, narrowing his eyes viciously. He reached a portrait, muttered the word "serpentine," impatiently under his breath, and waited as the portrait swung aside, revealing the long, damp spiraling stone staircase which led to the Slytherin house common room and quarters.

"Professor Snape?"

A startled dark face with slanted eyes peered out of the fifth year boy's dormitories. The Slytherin boys were clearly not used to having their head of house rapping sharply on the door of their dormitory at this point in the school year.

"Correct, Zabini," Severus said dryly, his thin lips curving into a sneer. "Your observation skills are keen as ever." The boy flushed slightly.

"I wish to speak with Draco," Severus demanded coolly.

He needed to have a talk with the insufferable boy. Needed to confront him about just how much of a fool he was, just how much he was in for now.

Or did he already know of the plan? Severus found it doubtful. That just wasn't the Dark Lord's style. He would have waited to tell Draco, Severus was almost sure of it.

Zabini's usually calm face developed a sheen of sweat.

"Sir…Draco isn't…he's not…well, sir."

"Not well? What is wrong with him?" Severus snapped, grabbing Zabini by the neck of his robes and shaking him.

The boy seemed frightened out of his mind by Severus's urgency, and spoke quickly.

"I don't know what's wrong with him, sir. He's…well, he was missing in a few of our lessons, starting after Potions class. And just awhile ago we all came down here to get in some studying for exams before dinner, and…Malfoy was just lying there, all curled up. He looks almost…dead, sir."

Severus pushed past Zabini and into the dormitory, where one cursory sweep of the room of beds, some with the occupants now looking up at his arrival with curiousity, showed him what he was looking for.

Draco was lying, apparently right where he had fallen, at the foot of his bed. (so much for Slytherins helping Slytherins, Severus thought sourly) He was pale and looked as if all the life had been taken out of him. Though Severus could tell that Draco was not dead, his heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him in such a weakened state.

Without speaking a word, or even acknowledging any of the surrounding watchers, including Crabbe and Goyle standing numbly by their bunks (Crabbe was rooting in his nose for a grand piece of real estate), Severus strode over to Draco and nudged him with his foot, curling his lip distastefully as he did so. Then knelt on the floor beside Malfoy and examined him closer.

Severus drew in breath sharply as he saw Draco's left sleeve rolled up and stained with a minor amount of blood. Not being able to prove his suspicions with this many people around, Severus brought his arms underneath Draco and lifted him from the ground. The boy was a bit heavier than he looked.

Severus slowly walked to the door, carrying the limp Malfoy in his arms. At the door, he turned to face the awestruck Slytherins.

"Speak a word about _any _of this to _anyone_, and you will be _very sorry indeed_," he whispered in a most deadly voice, before turning on his heel and closing the door firmly behind him.

Once Severus had gotten back to his private chambers, he laid Draco almost tenderly on his bed, and sat down on the edge before unbuttoning Malfoy's shirt and undoing his school tie.

Blocking out any incoming emotion, Severus set to examining Draco's forearm. It was as he thought, identical to his own. A bloody mess from where the dark mark had become irritated and raw.

So he had called Draco. But obviously Draco had never come, due to his being unable to cope with the agony.

_There must be a penalty for that, _Severus thought bitterly, as he set to work cleaning the blood from Draco's arm. After he had done that, he started on his own. Severus then took down a pestle and other materials for making the soothing solution he often used for the mark when this happened.

He worked by the fireplace, which he lit with his wand, grinding the kingsfoil herbs into a fine powder before adding other ingredients to make it a smooth, pink-tinged cream. Every once in a while, he would steal a glance over at Draco, lying in seeming tranquility on the bed, his bare chest rising and falling shallowly, as if he were somewhere between life and death.

He kept reminding himself how angry he was with this insolent brat, but the truth was, it was hard to be angry when he was so exhausted.

When Severus had applied the relieving cream to both Draco and himself, he pulled the covers up and around Draco, encasing him in warmth. For a while, he paused, leaning over the boy. It was only when a glistening strand of his long greasy black hair fell forward and brushed against Draco's face that Severus realized what he was doing.

Moving from the side of the bed with a lightning quickness, Severus fell backwards into a low armchair. He picked up a book, _Most Potente Potions_, and pressed his large nose into the crease between its pages, as if trying to absorb the words. As if somehow, doing this would relieve the large unexpected ache in his chest

Fortunately for Severus, he had underestimated how tired he was. It was only a matter of minutes after he sat down before sleep washed over him in a great wave.


	15. The Pertinent Thoughts of Demise

**Ashley would just like to point out that she is very very sorry indeed that this took so long to update, but she had writer's block when it comes to all her Harry Potter stories. Actually, she still does, but has attempted to muddle through so Celia won't keep bugging her about it (not that Celia is one to talk about never updating).**

When Draco first regained consciousness, he did not know where he was. His eyes scanned his surroundings swiftly, taking in the sights of the room in which he was currently presiding. The foot of the bed, a lone dresser, a cracked mirror... Draco drew a sharp intake of breath as he identified the place. He knew it too well not to.

His first reaction was to run, to get out of there. Surely there had been some mistake, for it would not make sense for him to be where he very obviously was. Draco pushed up into a sitting position, still attempting to wrap his mind around the recent events.

From what he could remember, there was nothing that made sense about any of this. He had fought with Snape, then stormed off, then returned to his dormitory, then... the Dark Mark. Draco's thought process trailed off. Had that really happened, or had it been a dream? Draco's gaze wandered around the room as he thought, trying to remember. He froze as his optic nerve carried the picture of a man sitting in a chair nearby, sleeping soundly.

Snape. Had it been him that brought him here? If it was, why did he do it? Draco had been such a little brat to him lately... There was no reason why Severus would possibly want to help him, right? But why would he have to help him? What had happened to bring that around?

Draco was beginning to become frustrated. He had questions, but no answers, something he was very unaccustomed to considering who his father was. His slender fingers clenched themselves into fists, but as he did so, a pain shot up his left arm.

Draco paused, still looking at Snape's sleeping form. Slowly, deliberately, his gaze shifted to his forearm, where the Dark Mark was now covered in a smooth, pink-tinged cream. His eyes went wide. So that _had_ happened. It wasn't simply a figment of his imagination, a dream that he could push to the darkest corner of his mind. No, this was very real indeed.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that Draco didn't notice when the older man in the room stirred. Snape's eyes opened reluctantly, and he had to blink wearily a few times before properly seeing. Once he did, he almost regretted it.

"So you're awake." It was a statement, not a question. Draco jumped slightly at the sound of a voice and jerked around to face its source.

"Yes," he answered cooly. But while his outward demeanor may have been calm and collected as usual, Draco Malfoy's insides were in turmoil. He didn't know what to expect from this conversation, and that frightened him to no end.

"Good," Snape replied snarkily. "Then you won't have any objections to leaving now."

Draco stared at him, at a loss for words. Severus stared back at him, his dark eyes boring into the former's lighter ones.

"You heard me." Snape's voice was deadly soft. "Leave now. I don't want to ever see you in this state again." With that, Severus stood and walked into an adjoining area, putting a solid wall between himself and the boy.

Draco was in shock. Why would someone go to the trouble of removing someone else from the floor of their dormitory and nurse them back to health before telling them they wished for no further contact with them?

An idea came to the boy - Severus had said that he never wished to see him in _this state_ again, not ever again. Draco willed himself off the bed and followed his comrade into the other room.

"I believe I told you to leave." Snape said cooly upon taking note of Draco's arrival.

"Indeed you did," Draco responded, his voice shaking slightly more than he would have liked, given the situation.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Because I think you have answers for me and I want them." The habit of finding any and all information he wanted never really left the Malfoy heir. "Now, preferably, rather than later."

"And what makes you think something as _idiotic_ as that?"

Draco stood firm despite his wavering resolve.

"You took me from my room. You applied this-" he waved his left arm in the air, indicating the Dark Mark "-to ease my pain. I can tell, just by the way you're avoiding me now, that you know something that I don't."

"Malfoy, I know many things that you do not." Snape replied snidely. "Most of which do not, nor will the ever, concern you."

"But you know something that _does_ concern me," Draco pushed on, "Why won't you just tell me what it is?"

Severus whipped around to face the boy, who was startled by the sudden movement.

"Do you really wish to know?" he asked softly, a glimmer of something dangerous hidden in his tone.

Draco nodded, unable to control his vocal cords.

"The Dark Lord has a mission for you-" Before Severus could continue, Draco cut him off.

"The Dark Lord has a mission for _me_? I knew it! I knew he saw I was loyal and-"

"This is no matter for rejoicing." Snape's voice cut through Draco's happiness like a serrated knife. "You are still young and do not know the extent of the Dark Lord's treachery... He will do anything to achieve his means, and he does not care if his so-called 'loyal' followers are harmed in the process." He looked at the boy in front of him, who had fallen silent.

"While I do not approve of the Dark Lord's decision myself, it is not my place to say. You will carry out your mission whether you like it or not. There is no turning back now, do you understand me?"

Draco nodded slowly, suddenly not so sure of himself.

"Will you tell me what it is?" his voice was quiet, almost afraid.

Severus observed the young man in front of him, not a boy but not quite yet a man. He had promised to watch over him, and now, he had failed. If Draco could not carry out his mission... Severus shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the thoughts. There would be plenty of time later for such things.

After what seemed like an eternity, Severus reached a decision.

"I am not the one you must hear it from."


	16. The Scattered Mind on a Bitter Parting

**Ashley's A/N: Soooo I definitely JUST realized that Celia put up another chapter. I'm scared to find out when that actually happened. My baaaaaad. Maybe someday I'll actually get around to updating as well. ... Maybe.**

**Celia's a/n: I know...it never dies. Anyhow, I had a resurgence of love for this story, and seeing as it is my turn to write a part...here it is. I only hope Ashley is still up to it, because you do not want to see me write Draco. I can write a lot of people's pov's okay, but Draco is not one of them. I am deeply sorry to everyone who followed this. Deeply sorry. Please take this pathetically short chapter as a symbol of my sorrow.**

As soon as Draco left his office, Severus fell back against a storage cabinet, lowering his head so that his long oily black hair fell to the sides of his face, obscuring the view of any invisible watcher. He stayed like this for a long amount of time, not moving, The only sound that disturbed the silence was the slow, plodding tick of the rusted iron clock hanging on the wall in one of the storage cabinets, nagging at him through an inch of wood.

When finally Severus looked up, it was in remembrance of his need to pack. He would be spending the summer at Spinner's End, and with the exception of the summons, he did not think he would be going anywhere.

Certainly not to Malfoy Manor.

_They never have me over there unless they want something._

_But if _I_ wanted something…_

_Draco._

_Why didn't you tell him?_

Severus saw Draco in his head, pale hair slicked back across his pale head, with some sort of…glow. Lucius was different, Lucius was only coldly pretty, and indifferent. The product of inbreeding. All of the Malfoys. Fuck the Malfoys. But Draco…

Draco had stood there, had asked him about the Dark Lord's plans, asked in that demanding tone he had, knowing full well that he had no power at all, and not caring because the assumption of power was all he seemed to need. Draco could live on illusion because his daddy had money. And Draco was so obsessed with Lucius, he thought Lucius was what he would be, but he was _wrong_ because Draco was not Lucius. Draco was a boy, and he had been frightened, and unsure, and he had looked to Severus to tell him what the hell was happening, to slap his face and wake him up from the torpor the lies he had been fed had caused. Draco was a little boy, a brat, but a boy. Boys, men. Just a boy.

_Enough._

Severus walked to the end of his office, and sat heavily at his desk. It was past lunch. He didn't care. He never did.

There were a lot of things that impertinent boy thought he could do. And perhaps, Severus allowed, there were…things he _could_ do. But there were things Severus knew about Draco, things Draco didn't know about himself. Things like how transparent he could really be, how irritating he really was, how completely useless, how he could not do what lay before him. Snape knew that Draco could not

_Kill._

Severus turned away, striding to his chambers. He needed to pack. Draco could wait. First Lucius, now Draco, they had been a part of his life since he was bloody eleven. Always wanting something of him, always…He was sure Narcissa would be next, once she heard of the Dark Lord's plan. Why couldn't they just leave him alone??

That was all Severus wanted, to be left alone. Or was it?

_That's not true. You want respect still…power…and you want __**him**__._

_I have no idea what you are talking about._

_Have it your way._

Somewhere, on a train heading away from Hogwarts, Draco was alone with his thoughts as well.


	17. The Tortured Mind of a Broken Boy

_Who does he think he is?_ Alone in a train compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Draco fumed. He had sent Crabbe and Goyle away after one of them had commented on Draco's silence and lack of the usual mockery of Potter and his groupies. Draco didn't failed to even notice the air was devoid of the typical grunts and snorts, however, as he was too busy fuming. _Who does he think he is?_

_He's trying to protect you_. The thought came unbidden from the back of his mind.

_Protect me? _The dominant voice retorted. _Protect me from what? If anything, __**he's**__ the one that needs protecting. Once Father finds out what he said..._

_But what if what he said about Father is true? What if-_

_No. That's not possible. _It couldn't be possible. What kind of parent would manipulate their child purely to further their own selfish goals? Yes, the Malfoys had a certain reputation to uphold, one that certainly involved a good deal of deception and manipulation throughout the years, but that didn't necessarily mean...

_But what if it does? What if Snape is right?_

_He's not._ There was no way that Lucius would manipulate his only son. Father was proud of him. Proud of the choices he had made. Proud that he was following in his footsteps...

_You're becoming just like him._

And just what was wrong with that? What could possibly be wrong about having power and money and the respect of the entire Wizarding community?

_But at what cost? _

Cost? There was no cost as far as Draco was concerned. Power, money, respect... Surely he must have alienated some people along the way, but they meant nothing. If they were actually important, they would have stood by him. They wouldn't abandon him. Certainly those who mattered were still beside him today. The Minister, Narcissa, Snape...

_Snape's not with him. He's against him._

_Then he's against me as well. _

_After all you've been through with him?_

It was this last thought alone that gave Draco pause. There was no denying all that Snape had taught him over the years. Even when Lucius was not around, off on business or whatnot, Snape always was. Even though he did not always agree with what Draco's father was doing or the decisions he influenced his son to make, Snape had always stood by him. Even when he furiously proclaimed Draco a fool and demanded he remove himself from his sight, he had been there.

_Why else would he have taken you from your room and taken care of you that night? _

Draco did not have time to ponder this last thought, as it's coming also signified the arrival of the train at King's Cross. Shaking his head to rid himself of such things, Draco pulled his bag from the overhead compartment and strode off the train with the air of one bred and raised as royalty.

Even as he cooly greeted his parents on the platform and engaged in small talk regarding his time at school, unbidden thoughts continued to present themselves.

_I wonder what he's doing..._


End file.
